But I've Got My Medicine
by ticktockboom
Summary: "I had a fight with…with the others. Guess my old coping mechanism came into play." Sequel to a Ron/Draco story I wrote before. Pretty short and vague, but it's something that was bugging me and needed to be written. Thanks for reading.


Hermione was calling out to him, begging him to come back, and with a sudden thought in his mind – _firewhiskey – _he closed his eyes and turned on the spot, disappearing with a crack. His feet landed on solid ground and he knew straight away that he was not in the forest, and there was no way he could get back. But where was he? He slowly opened his eyes.

He couldn't possibly have apparated to a worse spot. There, spread grandly in front of him, was the large manor of Malfoy. He stood at the mouth of the entrance, beside the tall hedges, and he couldn't see the gate but he knew that it stood down the path. It seemed no one was there to see him, but knowing the Death Eaters, surely there'd be some detection spell on the premises. Before he had time to do more than pull out his wand, however, a figure walked silently out from the path. The pale boy looked first to his left, then to his right, and spotted Ron. There was a tense second where their eyes locked on one another, enemy upon enemy. But then Malfoy flicked his arm so that his travelling cloak trailed over Ron slightly. Ron gripped it and suddenly there was another crack and he was standing on some rocks beside a little river.

"What the hell are you playing at?" Malfoy yelled, suddenly right in Ron's face and prodding him in the chest. "What in heaven's name compelled you to apparate right in front of The Dark Lord's headquarters? If it hadn't of been me that walked out - ! You could be dead right now, or being tortured, or in Azkaban! Are you a complete idiot?"

"I…I didn't mean to," Ron muttered, feeling like he did when his mum yelled at him.

"Not only that!" Malfoy continued, cutting over him. "But now you've put me in danger! I mean, I'm good at occulemency, but I'm no match against _him_. If he decides he wants to probe into my mind, well, I'm fucking done for! It's an effort to keep Bellatrix and Snape out! This is war Weasley and you've got to fucking act like it!"

Ron shuffled his feet and didn't meet Malfoy's eyes, "it was an accident…"

"How can you '_accidentally_' – "

"I was thinking of Firewhiskey," Ron whispered, "and…it took me to you."

Ron looked up. Malfoy's hardened expression did not change. But, in a flash, he gripped the front of Ron's clothes and roughly pushed their lips together. It was not gentle, nor particularly romantic, but Ron did not mind – he attacked Malfoy with the same force, as if kissing and touching him could destroy him.

As they broke apart, Malfoy said, "You are a complete idiot. Why were you thinking of Firewhiskey in the first place?"

Ron shrugged and wiped his bloody lip, "I had a fight with…with the others. Guess my old coping mechanism came into play."

Malfoy looked steadily at him for a long time. Then he told Ron to stay exactly where he was, and disapparated. Ten minutes later, he returned, and sat down next to Ron in front of the fire he had conjured. A familiar bottle was passed to him.

"Thanks," Ron said gratefully, and took a long swallow. He had not had a drink since his fourth year, but the liquid felt awfully familiar as it made its usual way down his throat and into his gut, spreading warm comfort through his body. "Where are we anyway?"

"Where is Harry Potter?" Malfoy asked.

Ron sputtered and spilt drink down his front, "I can't tell – "

"Then I'm not going to tell you where we are. Does it matter anyway?"

"I suppose not," Ron replied, and passed the bottle to Malfoy, who took a sip gingerly.

"I haven't had this stuff since…"

"Yeah."

They swapped the bottle around for a little while in silence, watching the dancing flames in the night. It was comfortably warm.

"This is ridiculous," Malfoy said as they finished the bottle, "absolutely ridiculous. I mean, I can blame what we did in our fourth year as being young and stupid, because we were. But we're _seventeen_ now, I'm currently a fully-fledged Death Eater and you're working to bring down the man who controls my life. We're not dumb kids now and I don't know why we're doing this. It's fucking confusing me, Weasley, and I don't like being confused."

Ron didn't reply, but watched the fire.

"I mean, I'm risking my life being here," Malfoy continued, "they sent me out for a few hours to get out of their way, but if they realised what I am doing! This is so stupid."

Still, Ron kept silent.

"Will you fucking say something?" Malfoy exploded, grabbing hold of Ron's sleeve. "You came to me, this is your fault! Why did you have to do it?! You might have ruined everything! Fuck you Ron, fuck you to hell."

"That's the first time you've ever called me Ron," Ron said quietly.

As anyone could have predicted, they were kissing again. But Ron was in control this time – he was the one who pushed Malfoy to the leaf strewn ground, he was the one who planted kisses all over the boy's body, he was the one who ripped his clothes off – but this wasn't like their last time, where a desire to hurt as much as possible was the main objective, this time it was surprisingly gentle, almost loving. Ron made it so when Malfoy eventually came to his climax, he was gripping Ron tightly and breathing against his lips, whispering, _"Ron…Ron…"_ as he did.

They lay spent on the ground, panting up at the stars. Ron did not know what he felt in that precise moment; he had stopped thinking, about Hermione, about Harry, about Horcruxes and death and everything else. His mind was blissfully blank for the first time in eons. All he was aware of was the soft ground beneath him and the panting boy beside him.

"See," Malfoy suddenly said after a long time of nothing, "did that make sense to you? I don't…I don't love you in anyway whatsoever, and I know you don't love me. What is this that we're doing, what do you even call it?"

Ron paused for a moment.

"Medicine?"

Malfoy snorted, "I guess that's a word for it." He pushed himself up and was dressed in a matter of minutes. Ron knew that this was the last time he'd probably ever see Malfoy like this again, dropped of his tough-guy mask and completely vulnerable. He soaked in that image for a while.

"I don't want to know where you're going," Malfoy said when he was fully dressed. "I don't want to know what you've done or did or are going to do. As long as I can get away with it, we never met. And if the next time we meet is in battle, then…I fight to kill."

Ron stood up as well.

"You whispered my name as you came," Ron stated, and Malfoy flushed, "I want you to keep that in mind. When we meet again, you owe me, got that? We may be fighting to kill, but you owe me one last favour. Deal?"

They shook hands. Ron extinguished their fire and he stared at Malfoy's silhouette in the darkness. He wasn't yet sure of his next move, or even if he was planning to go back to his friend's ever again, but for a little while, it did not matter.

"Try not to die, you idiot," Malfoy said and with a crack he was gone again. Ron smiled into the darkness, and then he too disappeared into the night.

The next time Ron would see Malfoy was when he, Harry and Hermione were captured and taken to his manor. His father forced Draco to come into contact with them and identify if they had indeed captured the elusive Harry Potter. Before staring into Harry's puffed up face, Malfoy glanced at Ron. Ron's mouth was covered in blood, but he tried to remind Malfoy with his eyes about his last promise. It seemed Malfoy got the hint, because he didn't conclusively name the three as Harry Potter and his friend's. And when Ron had pulled Hermione from the chandelier wreckage, holding her tightly and knowing that this was indeed the person who he was in love with, he locked eyes with Malfoy, who looked so beaten and afraid to be where he was. He nodded minutely, and then they were gone.


End file.
